by Phyllis Green
After “Girl at the Window” Edvard Munch, 1893
Cold midnight cobalt,
blue as brine,
glows up her nightgown.
Moon, shaker of dreams,
streams, cubed, neat.
She sighs, looks down on the street.
The doorways below
have nothing to do
with her.
A year ago, a couple cleaved
where she now stands,
alone, curtain in hands.
Was she the woman embraced,
now awaiting
her lover’s return?
Spurned,
these dual lives, in series,
transferred to loaded brush.
A hush,
she can’t hear his footfall,
or revive her bliss,
But tastes Saturday’s fog,
a salty kiss.
Cynthia Gallaher, a Chicago-based poet and visual artist, is author of four poetry collections, including Epicurean Ecstasy: More Poems About Food, Drink, Herbs and Spices, and three chapbooks, including Drenched. Her nonfiction/memoir/creativity guide Frugal Poets’ Guide to Life: How to Live a Poetic Life, Even If You Aren’t a Poet won a National Indie Excellence Award.
Phyllis Green’s art has appeared in ArLiJo 123. the Revolution (relaunch), Earth and Altar, ThereAfter, Superpresent (both spring and summer 2021), Novus, New Plains Review, and soon in I 70 Review. Phyllis is also the author of 16 books for young people.